It's Pnuemonia, lol

Saturday morning I wake up and lift my head off the pillow. It feels as if someone has hooked wires around my brain and is pulling it back to the pilllow. My son, who is sleeping next to me, wakes up. A few minutes later, my daughter wakes up too.

"Peanah Butter, Daddy! I want Peanah Butter!"

"Ok, baby, just give me a minute."

My head hits the pillow and suddenly it's five hours later. My daughter is crying. I pull myself out of bed and slather some bread with peanut butter and jelly. I make one for my son too. I lay back down.

3 hours later I wake up.

"Daddy, I'm hungry." My son says.

"Ok."

I reach into my pocket and dial the number to the pizza place. Fuck cooking food today.

I ooze through the rest of the day, like a mindless, numb, zombie. Finally, I get my kids to sleep and fall back into bed.

Sunday, I wake up at 8:30. I don't feel quite as bad, but my head is still pounding, and suddenly I am coughing like crazy. Dear good, the flu is killer this year, I think to myself. I get my kids dressed and out the door when my dad stops by to pick them up for sunday school. I go back inside, drink a glass of god-awful alka seltzer, and fall onto my couch. It's 10 AM.

I wake up and look at the clock. 4 PM. Oh shit. My stomach is growling, I'm hungry as shit, but I have no food in the house because I haven't had a chance to go to the market yet. I throw on some clothes on my crusy, nasty body and go out the door. I stop at Burger King and order a Whopper (yeah, can you believe that shit?). Funnily enough my stomach isn't affected at all by this. But my head feels like it's going to pop.

I got to my parents and get reamed out by my mom because my daughter apparently looked pretty dirty. lol I tell her that I've been on my deathbed all weekend, and she calms down and asks why I didn't call them--that they'd come get the kids. I shake my head. Even when I'm sick it somehow seems wrong to me to let someone else watch my kids on my time with them.

Today, I wake up. It's 5 AM and my head is doing summer salts. I'm sweaty and cold and hot and clammy. I knock back another glass of alka seltzer and call my boss.

"Sorry, boss, but I can't make it in today."

I want to say that I understand we're under a crunch to get work out, but I feel as if someone is piercing my skull with a railroad spike.

Finally, at 2 PM today I drag my ass out of bed, take a shower (which feels both great, but also a bit numb due to the bed sores), and go to my local doctor. I haven't been to her for probably 8 years. I know this is bad, but I couldn't even begin to predict that I'd be diagnosed with pnuemonia.

So here I sit, checking my email and watching The Office. I decided to treat myself to the third season, so that while I'm laying on my deathbed, I'll have over 9 hours worth of comedy goodness.

It took them 45 minutes to fill my perscription at Walmart. So I bought some much needed food (seriously my fridge was frikin bare lol), got me some popsicles, and finally made it home at about 7PM. So I was out walking around with pnuemonia not only yesterday but today for 5 hours.

Now, I'd like to say that the medicine has kicked in but I still feel rather crappy. But I now know what it feels like to have pnuemonia. I always wondered about that.

P.S. Oh yeah, and the doctor brought sweat beads out on my head by giving me a shot in the butt. Or, as I like to call it, the rust iron spike of death.